Torn
by crashing-avalanches
Summary: He tries to act indifferently, even when bandaging his wounds; but it was no secret that Gokudera Hayato misses his boyfriend more than anyone else.


_"Nothing's fine I'm torn,  
I'm all out of faith."  
**~Natalie Imbruglia -Torn~**  
_

* * *

He doesn't question when his partner comes back to their apartment bleeding and limping, his raven hair tousled and his dress shirt crumpled and torn. He barely raises an eyebrow at the sight nor does he take his eyes off the screen in front of him. He simply waits for the man to lean his sword against the wall and shrug off his black jacket which has a sleeve torn off before slowly approaching the couch that he is on, dragging his left leg behind him, leaving a trail of caked blood in his wake.

He doesn't bother to offer to help, nor comfort or even greet.

Instead, he simply gets off the couch, turns off his laptop and makes his way into the kitchen, where he puts on the kettle and opens the cupboard to get the tin that contains tea leaves. After making sure that the electric kettle is working, he makes his way to the bathroom. He pulls open the cupboard on top of the sink and reaches for the first-aid kit at the back, grabbing the razor and the shaving cream too. He then reaches for the plastic tub under the sink and chucks everything in. After staring at the contents, he reaches for the mouth washer and throws that in too.

He always makes sure he gets everything, because a second trip isn't worth it.

He walks briskly back to the sitting room to find his partner slumped on the couch; one lean arm riddled with bruises slung over his eyes, breathing evenly though his nose in an attempt to refrain from making any sounds in pain. He sets down the tub on the cluttered coffee table and walks off to the bedroom, picking a clean towel off the rack at the door and going over to the closet. He picks out a button-down shirt, a pair of black knee-length silk slacks and a pair of plain blue boxers. He goes over to the dresser and pulls out a fresh comb and a pair of scissors used for hair-trimming. He whisks a second towel off the rack on his way out.

He knows one is never enough, and on top of that, he has to do the laundry today.

He returns to the sitting room, to find the raven still in the same position, hastily wrapped bandages slowly unraveling and falling off his torso, revealing the still-fresh cuts under the soiled strips. He sets the clothes down on the clean settee at the right of the couch before slowly leaning over the man sprawled over his couch, peeling off the bandages.

Sure, they're soiled and he had just taken a shower, but frankly it doesn't matter now.

The kettle whistles and he gets up to takes the contents of the plastic tub out, sweeping aside papers and stationery to the side on the table to put the different items there. He then brings the tub into the kitchen and turns the kettle off, placing the tub under the faucet and letting the cold water run into it. He spoons a couple of tea leaves into a simple white ceramic teapot and pours hot water into it, putting the lid on and leaving it on the spotless dining table. He stops the flow of water from the faucet, seeing that the tub is half-filled, and pours a good measure of hot water into the tub, testing it with his finger to check the temperature. He hums in satisfaction and swings the fridge door open to pull out yesterday's dinner, a plate of loh mein which he had picked off the Chinese restaurant down the street. He rips off the plastic and pops it into a microwave dish and slips it into the microwave itself, setting it to heat it up.

It's not like he knows that the raven sitting on his couch now is picky about his food.

He grabs the tub and heads back to the sitting room, setting it down carefully on the floor and opening the first-aid kit. He pulls out surgical scissors and cuts away some parts of the ripped clothing that the raven is wearing, pulling off bandages at the same time. The cuts and bruises bloom up after the coverings are removed, some still bleeding, some scarring, some turning green and other just grotesque. It takes a while, and he does his job in silence, not bothering about the lack of conversation between them. He gingerly pulls off the black pants stained with blood and lays them on top of the pile of rags that were formerly the raven's clothes. All the while, his partner lays motionless, letting him do whatever he pleases.

The injuries weren't even light, but he doesn't flinch; he has seen worse.

He pulls the anti-septic and cotton out of the first-aid kit, setting a roll of bandages as well as some plasters beside him too. He daubs the anti-septic onto a wad of cotton and starts cleaning the wounds on his partner's shoulder. He puts plasters over shallow cuts, thoroughly cleans out the deep ones and applies ointment onto the bruises. He has used at least seven wads of cotton by the time he is done with the torso. He notes that the man still hasn't moved, neither has he flinched in pain from the stings that the anti-septic gives from contact with his open wounds. He finally finishes cleaning every single wound on the front of the man's body, the last one being a gash on his right ankle.

"Sit up."

The tone is neither kind nor rude. It is simply stating an order, one that the raven definitely has to follow. The man swings his arm off his face and turns his back to face his partner, gingerly touching some of the plasters on his chest. He comes face to face with a deep cut across the raven's upper back, the blood crusting over the long gash. He stares at it, and snatches a new wad of cotton from the table to clean it. He rubs hard to get the dry blood off and this elicits a hiss from the injured man in front of him. He merely continues and is relieved when he finds out that there is no infection. He finishes cleaning the long cut and reaches for the needle and string in the first-aids kit. Deep-brown eyes follow his hands and a left eye twitches.

"You'll need it; I want to close it before the wound gets infected."

He doesn't bother looking at his partner's face again and instead threads the needle and casually rips a wet wipe out of the Dettol pack sitting in the first aid kit. He wipes the needle carefully and leaves it wrapped in a second one. He reaches for a small black box under the coffee table and pulls out a syringe as well as a small bottle. He fills the syringe up, disinfects it with the Dettol wet wipes and presses his fingertips to the small of the other man's back.

"Don't move."

His partner only lets his breath in a long hiss as the needle punctures skin and the morphine is injected into his system. He drops the syringe onto the table and snatches up the needle and starts closing up the long deep gash. He pulls the man round to face him and starts closing up the few deep cuts on his chest and moves on to the nasty-looking one on his left calf and that one on his right ankle. He rethreads the needle a few times in the process, barely looking at the raven's face.

He doesn't need to see his expression, not now.

Finally, he is done and he unrolls the bandages and wraps it across the man's torso carefully, making sure to cover all the cuts on his chest and back. He carefully does the same to the open wounds on his arms and legs. After that, he packs the first-aid kit quickly and brings the dirty pile of clothes to the washing room and dumps them there. He quickly moves back to the sitting room and dips a towel in the tub of warm water. He carefully starts wiping away the dirt on the raven, starting from his feet, which are grey with grime. He carefully works his way up the man's body, and he finally reaches the face. He wipes away the dirt and grime from that handsome angled face, now thin due to lack of nourishment, accentuated by eye bags due to lack of sleep. Brown eyes look dully at him, drinking in his face and expression.

"…Hayato."

It is the first time he has heard that name fall from those lips in over a month. It has been a month since the Tenth sent him off on that stupid mission. That stupid mission which had been so dangerous that even Mukuro had insisted that he should not go alone; that mission that had led to him being not contactable for over three week; that mission that had led him to sleep alone in their bed for a month.

It was that mission that had led to him nearly believing that Takeshi was dead.

He blinks back the tears pricking his eyes, not meeting the chocolate-brown eyes he had grown to love over the past five years. He turns his head away and climbs off the raven, dropping the towel in the tub. He gathers the medical supplies in one arm and holds the tub in the other, standing up with his back to the man.

"Get dressed; leave your boxers at the edge of the couch. I'll cut your hair when I get back."

He puts the first-aid kit back into the cupboard and refills the tub, this time with cold water. He grabs the shampoo bottle off the shower rack and walks back into the room. The raven is fully dressed and is now sitting on the edge of the couch, inspecting the scars on his legs.

"Don't move around too much, it'll irritate the wound on your back and it will open again."

He reminds him in a quiet voice and kneels down in front of the Rain, motioning for him to bend his head over the tub. The raven complies and he starts wetting the black locks with the cold water, waiting for owner to get used to the low temperature before he cups more with his hand and splashes it on his hair. He squirts shampoo into his hand and mixes it with the water before massaging it into his scalp, making sure to rub it into every lock of his hair. After that he quickly walks to the kitchen and grabs a small plastic bowl from under the sink and uses it to pour the cold water over the shampooed hair, rubbing his fingers in small circular motions on the raven's scalp. After rinsing off most of the shampoo, he picks up the hair-cutting scissors.

He's only learnt how to do this ever since he ran away from home; hairdressing salons are a luxury when you're living on the streets.

He snips away at black locks that are far too long and slowly shapes the hair back into its familiar hairstyle. After he is done, he drops the second towel on top of raven locks and carefully dries him off. After that, he tilts the angular face up and sprays the shaving cream on his chin. Taking in a silent breath, he takes up the razor and starts shaving for the ebony-haired man, taking care not to break the skin.

He has enough cuts all over him already, no need for an extra cut on the face.

The raven's chin is finally free of all the stubble and he drops the razor into the soapy, dirty water in the tub. He picks up the tub and the dirty boxers as well as the shaving cream and turns wordlessly into the washing room, disposing of the razor and the dirty water, cleaning the tub and returning it and the shaving cream back to their original positions. He returns to the sitting room and helps the raven up and into the bedroom.

He's still warm against his skin, despite his damp hair and he unconsciously leans closer to him during that short trip to the bed.

He sits the raven down on the bed and hurries to the kitchen to take out the loh mein from the microwave. He sets it on the counter to cool as he pours the now-warm tea into small teacups and pulls out a carton of milk from the fridge. He sets everything including the teapot plus a glass on a tray and grabs a fork from the cutlery drawer. He carefully balances everything and walks back to the room, setting it on the bedside table.

He knows it is more than hunger he sees in the familiar chocolate-brown eyes; it is relief.

He hands him a teacup and helps him take small sips of it. After making sure that his hands were stable enough to hold the glass, he sets about arranging the pillows so that the raven wouldn't hurt himself while being comfortable. He leans him back against the pillows and climbs into bed with him, the plate of loh mein in one hand and the fork in another. He feeds him bite by bite, making sure that he drinks small sips of tea in between to help his stomach take the digestion.

It wouldn't do him any good to throw up; he's pretty sure the raven has done it at least once during the mission.

Soon, the plate is empty and so is half the teapot. He places it and the fork to the sink and pours the raven a glass of milk and makes sure that he finishes it. After that, he turns off all the lights in the apartment, except the one in the bedroom after returning the milk to the fridge. He quickly undresses, pulls on a baggy shirt with his boxers and turns on the bedside lamp, flicking off the light switch and climbing into bed beside him.

It takes a while for him to do it, but he eventually reaches across hesitantly to the black-eyed man beside him and wraps his arms around him.

He feels Takeshi's arms wrap hesitantly around him too, and soon he buries his head into the crook of his neck, the slightly-damp hair cool against his skin. The sobs come and soon, Takeshi is crying silently in his arms, his body shaking with the cries as he holds him close and presses kisses against the dark hair. He smoothes his palms across the Rain's back and rubs them in soothing motions.

He knows that no matter how many missions Takeshi has gone on, he has never gotten used to killing someone, and walking away after that.

Eventually, he stops crying and raises a bleary face to meet his own. He wipes away the tears and presses a kiss to his forehead, another to the scar on his chin, and finally one on his lips. He then helps him lie down on the bed and snuggles into the warm inviting embrace that is Yamamoto Takeshi. He hides his face in his chest and whispers the sentence that he has been holding back the moment he walked in.

"I missed you so much."

A chuckle resounds from above his head, a weak one, but definitely one Takeshi would make. He feels himself pushed tighter into that familiar warmth and he pulls himself closer, hiding his face in Takeshi's neck, and smiles for the first time in over a month.

"Don't laugh, baseball idiot."

* * *

**/Skids to halt in front of everyone/**

**IT HAS BEEN A LONG WHILE YES? But again, school's a bitch and well my drama club isn't doing very well, and I have been super emotional and pissed, and thus I have been on hiatus?  
**

**But yeahhh thanks so much for everything guys. This fic is written for my beloved hasubandoo ShoeintheKOK and I wish her all the best for her SYF! Enjoy the fluff, the heartbreak and uhhh...the 8059?  
**

**Midyears are coming up and damn I am stressed! Reviews, favorites and critiques are most welcome! **

**/rushes off to save self from falling pile of homework  
**


End file.
